Ten Possibilities
by Scribbler
Summary: Ten genres. Ten fanfic clichés. Ten ficlets. Some Anzu/Yuugi, some Jounouchi torture, some Bakura angst, some angry Honda, some shameless Otogi, plus enough unconquerable friendship to keep everyone afloat and somewhat sane. Just a regular week in Domino.


**Disclaimer****: **Fragmentally not mine.

**A/N****:** I got this from SamCyberCat, although the original prompt was: 'Write ten different categories of fic, each in ten words or fewer.' As you can see, I've written … quite a few more words than ten for each, but the basic concept remains the same. Ten genres. Ten fanfic clichés. Ten mini ficlets.

Feedback appreciated!

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_**Ten Possibilities**_

© Scribbler, March 2009.

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_Nothing limits achievement like small thinking; nothing expands possibilities like unleashed imagination. _– William Arthur Ward.

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**1. Angst: **

More than Jounouchi's manic eyes, or the sound of Malik's voice being piped through his best friend's mouth, or the Rare Hunter's thumb pressing the button on the remote, it was the sound of metal hitting flesh, like the wet crunch of someone biting into a half rotten apple, that told Yuugi his entire world had changed forever.

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**2. AU: **

"You know," Anzu said, surveying the scene with the air of one who would be bored if she wasn't tamping down a fear so strong it could corrode fillings in the mouth, "it's things like this that make people not want to hang out with us. There really is no good way to say 'there are vampires on the roof, zombies are eating your poodle, the guy who supplies us with protective incantations is out cold and we've run out of shotgun shells'."

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**3. Crack!fic: **

Yami blinked. Then he blinked again. Sometimes he wondered whether he should stay out of the Puzzle at all times. Usually he liked to give Yuugi time on his own, not wanting to encroach on his partner's privacy, but this was too much. He hated it when he emerged to find the whole world had decided to stand on its head.

"Aibou," he said slowly. "Is there a reason why Jounouchi is wearing a tutu?"

"The same reason Anzu has a can of glitter and a glue-stick," Yuugi sighed.

"And the ostrich feathers?"

"Uh-huh."

"Would Honda's ballgown also be attributable to this reason?"

"Oh yeah."

"And the heels currently on your own feet?"

"Oh _yeah_."

"Do I want to know what that reason is?"

"Well, see, that's kind of a long story …"

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**4. Crossover: **

"You'd think we'd be getting used to weird stuff by now," Anzu said flatly. "You'd think there'd be nothing left that could surprise us."

"Yeah, well, it's thoughts like that which make stuff like this happen," Jounouchi grumped, as if it was her fault. "What the hell is a Princess of the Heart, anyhow, and why is that spiky-haired kid so interested in you?"

"That's Yuugi," Honda chimed in. "And we already know why he's interested in her."

Anzu smacked him on the shoulder, blushing through the dirt on her face. Of course everybody knew the Worst Kept Secret in the World, but it was a given that nobody actually, y'know, _talked_ about it or anything constructive like that.

"Not _that_ spiky-haired kid," Jounouchi snapped. "The other one. The one with the big freaking _sword_ shaped like a _key_, who just popped into our _universe_ by opening a portal in the freaking _sky_." He gestured wildly. "_That_ spiky-haired kid."

"I'm more interested in what the little shadow-creatures are," Honda replied, all humour leaving his voice.

Jounouchi followed his gaze and instinctively stepped in front of Anzu. The creepy things with the yellow discs for eyes had seemed most interested in her last time, and this newest batch was ogling her the same way. "Aw, crap," he muttered, bringing up his Duel Disk and aiming it at them. Whatever magic was making the monsters solid was useful, but not when he barely had any cards left. "Not again."

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**5. First Time:**

He lay in her arms for a long time afterwards. Eventually he plucked up the courage to speak. His voice came out breathy and remorseful. "I'm sor-"

"Finish that word and I'll cut off your bangs and stab you with them." She kissed the top of his head. "It was fine. Honestly."

"But I -"

"It. Was. Fine." She rolled her eyes. "Why do you always insist on doubting yourself when there's no need?"

"Because I -"

"It happens to a lot of guys. Don't worry about it."

"But this was -"

"Don't _worry_ about it."

"But I wanted this to be special -"

"It _was_ special. It was with you. That's special enough for me."

"We waited so long, and then I go and -"

"It was _fine_. Seriously."

"I don't think so." He sounded miserable – so very far from how he'd wanted to sound, and feel, at this moment.

She sighed and pulled him towards her.

The first _was_ fine.

But the second was better.

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**6. Fluff:**

"Uh …" Yuugi stared at the tray of cookies and forced himself not to look for the exit directly afterwards. "They look … yummy."

"You think so?" Anzu prised one up and examined it. Were chocolate chip cookies meant to be so black? And splat-like? "I worked all afternoon on these things. I followed the recipe exactly, but they still don't look anything like the photo in Mom's cookbook." She sighed and dropped the greasy blob back into place. It made a noise like custard. Hitting the back of the toilet. Before it'd been properly digested. "I'm such a sucky cook. No matter how hard I try, I never get it right." Her expression was so disappointed that Yuugi's heart scrunched like a mammoth had stepped on it while wearing combat boots.

He picked up a cookie. He held his breath. He bit. He chewed. He swallowed. He even managed to smile. His voice was a little strained, but he could still speak, which was an improvement on last time. "Yummy."

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**7. Humour:**

"Seriously," Jounouchi said, backing away until he realised the only thing behind him was a corner with no handy windows he could jump out of. The door was on the other side of the room – behind Anzu and Shizuka. Damn it. "No freaking way."

"But you're just the right height," Anzu insisted. "The costume would fit with only minor alterations. And you wouldn't have to do much. Just stand and wave. It's not like he _asked _to get bronchitis. And it's for a good cause."

"Please, Big Brother," Shizuka implored.

Jounouchi almost wavered. Almost. "I'm not playing Peter Pan in no parade, even if it is to raise money for the hospital. It'd be too humiliating. Too degrading. Too _public_. Riding on the back of a truck, through the centre of town, wearing tights, a stupid hat and no underpants?"

"VPL is a terrible thing," Shizuka said in a sombre voice. "But the tunic should cover you. A bit," she added, looking at the costume hooked onto the wardrobe door. It was tiny and poison green.

Jounouchi's resolve hardened. He shook his head. "No way. No how. Not ever."

Anzu's eyes flashed dangerously. "That's what _you_ think."

"What? Hey, get away! Get off! Help!"

"We tried to be nice, but you just had to play hardball, didn't you?"

"Shizuka, help me!"

"Shizuka, pass me the masking tape."

"Sorry, Big Brother, but it _is_ for a good cause."

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**8. Hurt/Comfort:**

Bakura shivered. He always seemed cold, these days. Maybe because he was always outside. Whenever he felt threatened he ran outside, as if trying to find solace in the open sky; or perhaps because he was sick of being boxed in. Funny, but he'd never been claustrophobic before. Probably a throwback to having his soul crushed repeatedly beneath the weight of another. He was sick of being contained; sick of being controlled, like he didn't matter except as some slab of meat for someone else to move around. He was just plain _sick _– sick in body and in mind, like the Spirit had left cancerous cells inside him that were slowly eating away at his organs, turning his lungs black so he couldn't breathe, and his heart into a shrivelled lump that couldn't feel. Never mind that the Ring was gone now: he hated being indoors and would rather be cold than cooped up when the nightmares came.

When was the last time he'd slept? Proper sleep, not just catnaps. He realised with detached surprise that he honestly couldn't remember. He spent his days in a hazy fugue of tiredness that had been hanging around his brain so long he couldn't seem to recall a time without it.

He heard the sound of a car braking as if from far away. He didn't even register the murmur of voices, or the shutting of a door. The brickwork of the building he'd slumped against was cool through his pyjamas. He focussed on that instead. He could feel his heart thumping inside him and the press of his ribcage against the wall as he breathed in and out. It was like an affirmation that he was alive.

"Bakura?"

He blinked upwards. "Oh. Hey, Ot-togi." He was too tired to sound surprised. His teeth chattered. "Long t-time no s-see."

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Otogi was wearing a tuxedo with an unbuttoned overcoat thrown over the top, and a silk scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. He looked far older than his seventeen years. He was probably on his way back from some black-tie affair his company was sponsoring. Over the other boy's shoulder, Bakura could spy a limo idling at the kerb, the anxious face of a chauffer poking over the partly open driver's door.

"Nice n-night, huh?" Bakura murmured. He felt dreamy and drifty, though right now he was more cold than tired. The sidewalk was scratchy against his bare soles. He could _feel _that. _Him_. Nobody else. He closed his eyes. "Couldn't stay at home. Not s-safe. Not safe an-nymore." He opened them again at the feel of the overcoat being put over him. "Hm?"

"C'mon," Otogi said, "you're coming home with me. I've more rooms in that mansion than I know what to do with, and you're a heartbeat away from pneumonia."

"B-but -"

"Jenkins," Otogi barked, making the chauffer snap to attention, "call ahead for us. Tell them it's an emergency." Even as he guided Bakura to his feet and into the back of the car, he was flipping open his cell phone and punching in numbers. "Hey, Yuugi? Yeah, I'm aware of how late it is, but trust me, this can't wait."

Bakura, only half-listening, slumped against him and concentrated on the feel of silk against his cheek.

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**9. Smut:**

"Where the hell is Otogi?" Honda demanded. "It's his turn to clean the classroom with us. He'd better not be skipping out on his chores." His expression was thunderous.

Jounouchi leaned back against the wall. "Didn't he have some date tonight?"

"Probably. He usually does." Honda snorted. "Why are girls so interested in him? What's he got that we don't?"

"You mean besides his own company, pots of money and a shiny car he lets them drive even if they don't have a licence yet?" Jounouchi shrugged. "Can't think of a thing." It wasn't often he could play the calm guy to Honda's raving madman, but when it came to Otogi his best bud went from zero to boiling in seconds. Jounouchi enjoyed the role reversal. It made up for Honda constantly ragging on him for the way he got so bent out of shape over Seto Complete-Freaking-Asshole Kaiba.

Honda grumbled and stomped off to fetch the mops and buckets. He returned in under a minute.

"Where's the stuff?" Jounouchi asked.

Honda shook his head.

"Why are you such a weird colour?"

"I found Otogi." Honda shook his head again, as if trying to dislodge an unwelcome picture in his mind. "You were right. He did have a date."

Jounouchi thought about this for a moment. "Oh _yuck_! In _school_? That's just nasty."

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**10. UST:**

"Here," Anzu said, blithely reaching up to fetch down the box of Chinese Checkers from the top shelf. "Honestly, Yuugi. Why do you even keep these up here when you know Friday night is Games Night?"

Yuugi, who, every Friday night, thanked whoever was listening that he was so short he only came up to her armpit, just shook his head and shrugged. "I always forget. Sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "Boys." There was a reason, after all, that she was wearing a tank top.

"One of these days," Jounouchi said from where he and Honda were peering around the doorway, "those two are actually going to realise what the other one is thinking."

Honda nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh."

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_**Fin.**_

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End file.
